Sherlock Holmes and the Black Orchid
by Ed-Wood
Summary: So far: Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson continue to debate over Holmes' usage of drugs; lunch at marcini's with an old friend Dr John Greenwood who learns startling news... Dr Greenwood's wife is found dead. Was it an accident, or something more sinister?
1. Introduction

_Disclaimer_ - I do not own the brilliant characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and only partially own the other main characters, as this fanfiction is partly based on a film called "Black Orchid" starring Ronald Howard - aka - Sherlock Holmes in the 1950's tv series :) sigh

Hi, for anyone who reads this story, this is my first attempt at a Sherlock Holmes story. I'm a big fan of mystery and detective stories, primarily Sherlock Holmes. I'd like to apologize for any inaccuracies in characterizations, and the time period depicted in this story - I don't know if they had telephones back then. If not . . . um, please forgive me hard-core Holmes fans. Thanks.

(_New_) - I actually wrote up until chapter 7 in 2005! Just recently my interest and love for Sherlock Holmes has experienced a resurgence (after discovering the brilliance of Jeremy Brett!!!) - so I thought now (2010) would be a good time to try and finish off the story, and polish up on the formatting on previous chapters (it was fine 5 years ago, but as the fanfiction site has changed, so to has the formatting on my old stories!)

**Sherlock Holmes and the Black Orchid**

"Oh Watson, do stop fretting yourself! Mrs. Hudson won't mind - she never has before" Holmes exclaimed in a dismissive tone, puffing calmly on his pipe.  
"Oh, is that right? Most probably dear chap, you've ever noticed because you have a curious tendency to 'tune out' when she does!" I retorted. Holmes' experimentation with the various varieties of cigarette ash had once again resulted in the ruination of Mrs. Hudson's rug.

"Precisely my dear Watson, although I am somewhat aware - I just choose to neglect such thoughts."

Poor Holmes, he was so frightfully bored. Not a single case in weeks!

Holmes arose from his chair and strolled languidly across the room, withdrawing a small bottle from the corner of the mantelpiece. He then proceeded to recline back in his plush armchair, rolling back his sleeve with those long, reed-like fingers, preparing himself for that dreaded injection.

"Oh Holmes, no! Not again - it's not worth it!" I cried desperately. Damn to the deuce whoever invented that blasted substance. Unfortunately, Holmes rarely took any notice of my protests.  
"I'm sure a case - a challenging case, may need to be solved any moment now!" I reasoned in desperation. "Requiring your full faculties!" I hastily added.

Surprisingly, Holmes paused; just as he was about to press down on the tiny piston.  
"Why, old chap, does this bother you so?" Holmes inquired coldly. "You, of all people know how my mind loathes stagnation." Holmes gingerly set the needle on his lap, and leaned forward.  
"Watson -" he looked deep into my eyes, almost pleadingly, "I need this."

And with that, he collected his things and resigned to his bedroom for the night - closing the door behind him.

:~:~:~:

"You know John Greenwood, sometimes I think you care more about your precious patients, than you do about me! Do you enjoy humiliating me? You could at least _try_ to get back home in time to say _goodbye_ to our guests!" the woman snapped into the telephone, slamming it abruptly on its receiver.

After the last guest left, the beautiful home was left vacant, except for Claudette Greenwood and her maid Hilary.  
"Hilary, go fetch my evening purse, I'm going out". The maid bobbed a curtsy and began rummaging in her mistress's closet.

Claudette could not believe the nerve of her husband - this is the third dinner party in a row he had missed. How could saving poor sick people be more important than one of her dinner parties?! Claudette shook her head in exasperation, she was tired of fabricating excuses for her husband's absence. Hilary returned and placed the bag onto the bedside table.

Claudette, now gazing into the gilded mirror near her bed, swept her long golden locks into a bun.  
"I do not understand how someone as beautiful as madam can be so casually treated!" Hilary uttered into her mistress's ear. "If you'll pardon my saying so" she quickly added. Claudette turned Hilary, "No, that's quite all right" she replied, smiling at her faithful maid "That will be all."

Claudette turned back to the mirror, staring intently at her reflection. Hilary was right. It was common knowledge that Claudette was greatly desired by many of the opposite sex. Therefore, she had better things to do, and better people to be with - rather than waiting around until her good-for-nothing husband came home.

Besides, it was no secret John fancied her sister Emily - who had just returned from Paris and was now working as John's laboratory assistant. John greatly desired a divorce, which was fine with Claudette. But it would be Claudette divorcing him. It would be on her terms, and hers alone. That night was the final straw, Claudette had what evidence she required.

Tonight was the night.

:~:~:~:

Thank you for reading! Reviews make me happy! (wink wink nudge nudge)


	2. Startling revelations

**Chapter 2 – Startling Revelations**

Disclaimer - I don't own anything really, except a number Sherlock Holmes dvds (just got the complete Basil Rathbone collection on dvd the other day!!!) and the complete works - which I still have to read!

:~:~:~:

The next morning, Holmes emerged from his room, smiling pleasantly. He immediately sat down at the table and took a sip of the tea I had poured for him. I steadfastly refused to acknowledge his presence, and continued to read The Times. Holmes edged down the center of the newspaper with an extended finger.

"You're not angry with me, are you Watson?" Holmes inquired.

I said nothing, and readjusted my paper. He must have spotted the opened letter on the table, as he nonchalantly spun it around to face him. "Hmmm" he murmured. Sighing, I put down my paper.

"Look Holmes, I'm concerned about you. You know I speak not only as a friend, but as a medical man, to whose constitution he is, to some extent answerable".

Holmes reclined back on his chair, "I know, Watson" he replied quietly.

A moment later, he straightened up, remarking "I almost forgot you were meeting with Doctor John Greenwood today".

Deciding a day out may do him some good, I replied "Holmes, you really must come! He was just going to show me some of the progress he has made at his laboratory, and then off to Marcini's for a light lunch." Holmes grinned back, "I'd be delighted."

An hour later, we caught a hansom cab from Baker street and headed uptown. We were greeted out front of Doctor Greenwood's laboratory by a pretty young woman with fair hair, wearing a crisp, white lab coat.

"Doctor Watson! And Sherlock Holmes I presume. Please, do come in" she ushered us inside.

Doctor Greenwood was hunched over an array of brightly coloured chemicals and powders. After completing his experiment, he whipped off his goggles and turned to the doorway where we had been standing. "My good friend!" he exclaimed, shaking my hand wildly "and this must be the famous Mr. Sherlock Holmes! Pleased to make you're acquaintance."

Holmes and I eagerly listened as Greenwood described and displayed his breakthroughs of disease treatment he had made with the help of his sister-in-law Emily.

At approximately one o'clock, we caught a cabbie to Marcini's. We sat by the window, and after ordering our meals, began to chat of many personal things.

"I cannot help it, she has become the love of my life" Greenwood sighed. I shook my head "But your beautiful wife Claudette, what of her?" I inquired with great interest. Greenwood gazed silently out the widow, with a melancholy expression on his face "we have become…distant - different. We no longer share any common interests. Furthermore, she is so selfish - complaining because I didn't make it to another one of her dinner parties – I was delivering a baby for goodness sake! Besides, her friends are not mine. But all that is in the past now, she has finally agreed to a divorce! Of course, the settlement is in her favor and a fair proportion of my assets and income will now lie with her. But no matter, I will finally be able to marry my darling, beloved Emily." His face visibly brightened at the thought.

For the first time since we arrived, Holmes opened his mouth "it's no good" he advised Greenwood rather cryptically. John frowned, "what ever do you mean?"  
Holmes folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. "It is against the law for a husband to marry their divorced wife's sister. It is a little known law, and has yet to be appealed."  
Greenwood simply stared back in astonishment, then looked down on the table in a stupor.

"Unless-" Holmes began, "she were to die, then, and only then, would you be able to marry Emily."

Greenwood's head bolted upright. "Is that so?" he asked, stroking his clean-cut chin.

"Why, don't get any funny ideas there Greenwood, my good fellow!" I said with a chuckle. He snapped out of his reverie and smiled innocently back at me "of course not, good doctor. Wouldn't even dream of it! Well, dream maybe . . ." he laughed.

We finished our delightful meals and decided we would head to Greenwood's home for a quick drink.

:~:~:~:

So, how was that? OK so far? Hopefully you're finding it agreeable. If you liked/disliked (hopefully not) my story - please R&R so I can make it better/leave it as it is.

Thanks very much for reading and reviewing my story, it means a lot!


	3. Meeting Mrs Greenwood

I've been going through a Gael Garcia Bernal phase lately, has anyone seen "The Motorcycle Diaries"? It's a really wonderful film, everything about it, not least the totally cute actor playing the lead. - Highly recommended!

Hmm, I don't have anything much to say but, here's chapter 3

xxx

After reaching Greenwood's home, we settled down in the parlor for a drink. They lived in a rather comfortable abode, very modern stylings for the time. I commented my findings to Greenwood, "oh, my wife's doing" he replied. As these words left his lips, a stunning, icy blond descended the staircase.

"Wife? Goodness, I hope you weren't referring to me' she said.  
"Ah, this is my soon to be _ex_-wife Claudette" Greenwood murmured. We all stood up and strolled towards the bottom of the staircase. Well, more accurately, I strolled over. Holmes was still engaged in deep conversation with Greenwood as I greeted Claudette.

"Delighted to see you again Claudette" I replied, kissing her hand. She nodded politely in reply. When her eyes fell upon Holmes, Claudette subtly pulled me aside, whispering "That's Mr. Holmes, isn't it?"  
I nodded.  
"I've read all your published works concerning Mr. Holmes. Is he really all you say he is?" she inquired, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.  
"That, and more" I replied humorously.  
A small smile creased the side of her lips as Holmes and Greenwood finally reached the stairs.

Holmes, ignorant, simply looked her up and down commenting "rather interesting flower you have there."  
She looked down at the flower pinned to her blouse "oh yes, it's a-"  
"black orchid" Holmes interrupted.  
"Why yes . . . Mr. Holmes, isn't it?" Holmes nodded. "Black orchids - incredibly rare flowers, and highly perishable. Approximately two to three hours." Holmes recalled.  
I couldn't help but smile, he had a passable knowledge of botany after all.

Claudette quavered slightly. "John I'm feeling a little light headed, and generally ill. Give me something, won't you?" Claudette demanded. Indeed, she was looking rather pale. Greenwood wandered towards his medical bag and rummaged through it.  
"Go fetch a glass of water" he told Hilary, who had been hovering nearby. She bobbed, with a noticeable look of disdain on her face at the sound of his voice. '_Well, it is to help madam', _she thought silently, and dashed to the kitchen.

"So Mr. Holmes, what _exactly_ do you do? What I mean is, do you work for Scotland Yard?" Claudette inquired, her voice begining to sound somewhat strained. "You could say I'm an unofficial consulting detective who has, on occasions, aided the Yard in their investigations - a profession which is even rarer than the orchid you wear."  
She was deeply impressed by this gentleman, so intelligent, perceptive, and strikingly handsome. Appearing especially impressive when he was standing directly by her good-for-nothing husband. Husband? Not for much longer. Then she would be free, to pursue whatever, and whomever she desired.

When Hilary came in with the water, Greenwood scattered a pinch of bright orange powder, fizzling when in contact with the water in the glass.  
"Here, drink this draught" he instructed. Claudette took the glass, eyeing it suspiciously "what is it?"  
"Never you mind, just take it - it'll make everything better".

Shrugging nonchalantly, she drained the contents of the glass. Hilary took it back to the kitchen without a word. Claudette gingerly sat down, resting her hand on her lap. Suddenly, she started to laugh "I suppose you're planning to marry that sister of mine, aren't you?"  
Before Greenwood could answer, she continued "do you know the law, in regards to such things? Probably not. Well, I'll tell you - you can never marry Emily. That's right, never! It is not permitted to marry your divorced wife's sister!" she exclaimed in a joyous tone, obviously pleased with herself.

Greenwood's expression, rather than the one of stupefaction Claudette had clearly anticipated, simply remained stoic.  
"I know. Mr. Holmes kindly informed me of such a fact at lunch today."  
Claudette, to say it simply, looked as if she had been slapped in the face. She stood up indignantly, then silently turned away to collect her purse.  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Not quite the reaction you were hoping for _darling_?" Greenwood replied with feigned sincerity. Claudette glared daggers at Greenwood, even as she stumbled towards the door.  
Greenwood sighed. "Where are you going?"  
"Outside for some fresh air, not that it is really any of your business!" she snapped indignantly, before turning to Holmes and I. "Dr. Watson it was lovely to see you again. Mr. Holmes, it was an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance" she said quietly, her voice rapidly growing fainter. We nodded simultaneously in reply.  
Without warning, Claudette's legs gave way beneath her. Holmes and I swapped curious glances.  
_'My my, she isn't looking well at all' _I thought silently. Holmes withdrew an umbrella from their stand and handed it to her. "Here, use this for balance" he instructed. She leaned towards him and kissed him on the cheek. Holmes, it appeared, wasn't quite sure how to react to this, so he simply nodded and took a step back.

With her bag in one hand, and the umbrella used as a makeshift walking cane for balance, she left without another word.

Slowly, we wandered back into the parlor, until a high-pitched shriek pierced the air. We raced to the door to see what all the commotion was about. Only a few yards away lay Mrs. Claudette Greenwood's motionless body.

xxx

Hey, does that count as a cliffhanger of sorts? Hmmm, probably not. Hope this chapter was OK, feedback appreciated!

Oh, and special thanks to Hermoine Holmes - for actually reading my story and giving some very good advice. Thanks very much!


	4. Accident or murder?

Good afternoon fellow fanfictioners, how are we today? For some unknown reason, I seem to be in a peachy mood. Although, it could be due to the Monty Python movies I've been watching lately! "Nudge nudge, say no more!" " Ni "! Ahem,

Anyhoo, disclaimer - don't own Holmes etc., only a few dvds (I would own LOTS if they were actually available mind you!)

Here is where the plot starts to take motion. (I think) . . .

~:~:~

I gasped in horror. Poor Claudette! She must have fallen and been hit by the passing hansom cab, trampled under the immense weight of the horses. A small crowd had already formed around her body.  
"She's dead!" a young man shouted. We dashed to the scene of the crime. Greenwood knelt down and held her hand "Claudette!" he uttered in disbelief. A nearby constable must have received word as a short while later, Lestrade rushed up to Holmes and I.

"What happened here? I've talked to the cabby, who said she seemed to come out of nowhere - then collapsed. He only managed to see her a second before . . . you know . . . and he couldn't stop in time. I hear you were some of the last to see her" we both nodded.  
"She appeared rather uneasy before leaving the house" I reported "quite unwell".  
Poor Claudette. I had known her since she and Greenwood became engaged all those years ago . . .I shook my head solemnly. She had been a fine woman.  
"Oh, there's another thing." Lestrade started "we detected some sort of chemical on her lips and breath." He paused. "Well, not breath as such, obviously, as she's dead and all . . ." Holmes held a finger for pause, noticing my grievous expression.  
"Erm, sorry for putting it so bluntly Doctor. I take it you know the lady then?" I nodded. Lestrade cleared his throat "Sorry. Ahem, so, where is this husband of hers? I think I'd like a word" Holmes pointed to a nearby set of stairs, where Greenwood sat, his face deep in his hands. Lestrade nodded and hastily made his way towards him.

"Holmes, what do you think Lestrade is up to?" I asked. "Well,they have detected an unknown chemical on Mrs. Greenwood's lips, although goodness knows how they came to think of it, so it appears some fowl play was afoot."  
I gazed into his eyes, wondering what he was playing at. _Greenwood? What? Never._ "But why on earth would Greenwood want to kill his wife?" I exclaimed in frustration. Holmes shook his head with amusement. My blood began to heat up, as if a fire was growing inside me. "What!" I demanded coldly.  
"My dear Watson, have you not been paying a single ounce of attention to anything which has been said today? I have said it, Greenwood knows it - our conversation at Marcinis?" He prompted, in what I could tell was exasperation. I waggled a finger at him, and paused for thought, struggling in my attempt to recall what had been said in the past few hours.

"_I will finally be able to marry my darling, beloved Emily."_  
"_it's no good. It is against the law for a husband to marry their divorced wife's sister. Unless . . . __she were to die, then, and only then, would you be able to marry Emily"_

* Dear readers, please forgive this old man for a temporary lapse of memory. But all the same, it just seemed too fantastic.

I shook my head violently "No Holmes, he wouldn't do that, go to such desperate measures. He's a good, respectable man. I've known him for years, we even - " "Served together at Afghanistan?" Holmes concluded innocently.  
This was too much. "Now is _not_ the time for your tricks Holmes! I'm -" Holmes held a palm up for pause "I know dear fellow, but the evidence is slightly mounted in his direction. You must be aware of what Lestrade and the other fools of Scotland Yard must be thinking Watson. Most probably something like this:

**One** - He gave her a draught of (at present) unknown chemicals - even I'm not entirely sure what it may have been at this moment in time. There are many of that particular orange tinge - which have both positive and negative results when consumed by a human. Unfortunately the glass has already been washed by her maid so we may never know for sure. The autopsy will reveal something, though there are a number of factors that must be considered before jumping to conclusions.

**Two** - he gave her this draught only moments before she died.

**Three** - Motive - as already discussed. Even the Yard will discover the possible motive reasonably soon. This, is most damning.

**Four** - witnesses. Also, I have a feeling the maid will not provide the most kindly portrait of her master, you saw her reaction to Greenwood. She was most dedicated to her mistress."

I looked at him helplessly "So, do you think he did it?" Holmes smiled back reassuringly. "Although I do not usually jump to conclusions, I find it difficult to believe that Greenwood murdered his wife. Soon to be _divorced_ or not."  
Relief washed over me. "Why is that Holmes?" I wondered out loud.

"Because my dear Watson, he is an intelligent man of science. Only a complete imbecile would attempt to commit _any _crime in my presence and expect to get away with it!"

~:~:~

Okey dokey, hope that was all right. Thanks again forthe nice reviews, they have all been extremely useful and help boost my non-existent self esteem!


	5. guilty?

G'day fellow Holmes fans! How are we? I'm in the best mood - once again! Watched "_Sherlock Holmes: Case of Evil_" - has anyone else see that? It stars James D'arcy as a young Holmes, and Vincent D'onofrio as Moriarty. It's quite good! Also, just recently became a 'Law and Order: Criminal Intent' fan. Yay!

Also quite good was "_A Very Long Engagement_" and. . . very very good was "_The Aviator_", and finally, I saw a rather brilliant Roo theatre production of "_Les Miserables_"- good stuff!

Sigh so much entertainment, its wonderful.

(About 2 weeks after writing the above) So, I have now officially started my distance uni course and certificate IV in Screen. I'm so not going to have anytime for fanfics for a while. But here is a pre made chappie. Just pop in the microwave...and enjoy (hopefully!)

**XxxxX**

I cannot even begin to express the gratitude I was feeling towards Holmes at this moment. Indeed, if Holmes did not believe Greenwood was the culprit - (that is, if there even _was_ a culprit) then he was most certainly an innocent man. Granted there was a possible motive, but I felt confident that Lestrade or anyone else from the Yard would not find anything remotely resembling actual physical evidence against Greenwood - he is a noble doctor, like myself, whose main purpose is to help rid the world of disease and do his best to prevent death - not cause it.

"Now Watson, do you require a summarization of the obvious facts so far known to us" Holmes began, leaning against a nearby rail "or have you actually been paying attention?"  
I straightened my jacket indignantly "Of course I've been paying attention. I may be getting on in years, but that does not make me a confounded dimwit!" I responded. "Right then" Holmes grinned. "There isn't much we can really do until we have the results of the autopsy - there is no point wasting time investigating her 'murder' if it was in fact, an accident"  
"A tragic one" I added. "But what if it _was_ murder? Shouldn't we have a sort of contingency plan so if the worst were to happen we shall be prepared?" I asked. Holmes paused for a moment, tapping his reedy fingers absently against the rail, as if pondering what our next move . . . well, our first move, would be.

"If it is found that her death was _not_ accidental, and the autopsy finds that certain chemicals _had_ induced her collapse, we must begin by retracing Claudette Greenwood's footsteps, to discover if there was someone else in her life, besides John Greenwood, who would have the motive for murdering her. Of course, every little detail may later prove to be vital to the case."

Holmes checked his gold pocket watch, the afternoon air was rapidly growing cooler as evening approached. "First thing in the morning, we shall talk with Lestrade to ascertain what the autopsy has found. But until then, I suggest we make our way back to Baker street, as it is almost time for dinner. I dare not aggravate Mrs. Hudson further this week, or she may retaliate and over cook the meat!"

The next day it had been discovered that a form of nicotine poisoning had been the major cause of Claudette Greenwood's death. Such a substance had been found in Greenwood's medical satchel. That, coupled with a scathing statement from the maid had been damning. Nothing Holmes or I could say, at this early time, could persuade Lestrade from withholding Greenwood's charge of murder. The evidence appeared overwhelmingly against him. So it was done.

Nevertheless, I was determined to prove he was not a killer. It just wasn't in his nature.

"So Holmes, where exactly should we start?" I asked, still astonished that they had found such damning evidence so quickly - which was most certainly _not_ like Scotland Yard at all!

"Well my dear Watson, we know the other night she held a dinner party, therefore we must establish who was present, and whom she was with."

Finding Hilary Huntington, the Greenwood's maid, was not a difficult task. Getting her to talk, well - that was another matter. "I've already told the constable everything, and I shall say no more" she snapped abruptly.  
"Now look here young lady" I reasoned "there is a very important matter at hand here!" She looked up and huffed. "I do not care. Sir did not treat madam very well. He was often late to social events and her wonderful diner parties - which were the talk of the town - or would not turn up at all!" she muttered profanities regarding Greenwood, which I would rather my dear readers did not hear. "They fought often. He poisoned her, I know it! You saw him do it with your own eyes!" She hissed, picking up her belongings.  
I eyed her suspiciously "You seem pretty sure it was poison in that draught. How do you know it was not meant to help her, as he said?"  
"Well," she replied with a deadpan expression "it didn't do her much good."

Now was Holmes' turn. I was really becoming quite fed up with this ill-mannered young lady. "Now Ms Huntington, do you know of anyone who may wish your madam any harm? - Besides Doctor Greenwood?"  
"No sir, she was adored as a near Goddess by many men, she was always receiving gifts, flowers..." she replied, almost proudly. "Any particular gentlemen you care to divulge the identity of?" Holmes carefully prompted.  
"No, I don't think so" she replied icily."

I decided to ask one more thing before we left. "Would you be able to live with yourself if Doctor Greenwood was innocent, and the one who murdered your precious Madam were still at large?"  
And with that, we left.

**XxxxX**

Thanks to those kind people who have been reading/reviewing!


	6. Attention

Hi everyone! Well, hello to the one or two of you left still reading this story that is. lol

I have recently discovered "Wire in the Blood" – which is a brilliant brilliant show! Robson Green is a total hunk-of-spunk sigh and today I watched "Dirty Dancing 2 – Havana Nights" which was soo good! Better than the original. Diego Luna…Too many distractions! Must…study…

Anywho, here is the next chapter (where once again, nothing much really happens.) Enjoy!

**XxxX**

"I'm not sure what you're thinking Holmes, but it seems to me we are back at square one." I said downheartedly. Holmes' brows furrowed in a look of deep concentration as he stared intently ahead. One could only imagine what he was pondering? Thoughts streaming through his mind at break-neck speed on how he would crack this case.

Holmes stopped suddenly and pulled out his pocket watch "I do believe it is time for lunch" Holmes said rather casually. Had he been paying any attention to me whatsoever, or to the results – if you could call them 'results' of our visit to Ms Huntington?  
"Holmes, I don't see how you can be thinking of food at a time like this!" I exclaimed irritably. Sometime Holmes could be quite inconsiderate. He turned to me and frowned, "What ever do you mean Watson? It's after one o'clock."  
I was quite disappointed by the careless disregard Holmes appeared to show towards this case – one that was very important to me, involving one of my oldest and dearest friends.  
Holmes took notice of my disheartened expression and he placed a hand on my shoulder "this case means a great deal to you, doesn't it Watson?"  
"You should know, being the great Sherlock Holmes" I replied dryly. Holmes was taken aback by my tone. "Watson, I promise you my focus is entirely on this case, you needn't worry about that." I forced a smile, and we continued walking.

In my heart of hearts I was sure he meant it. So why did it not feel genuine? He couldn't be stumped by this case - although we had no leads so far, we have faced many cases harder than this one, that I am sure of. Although, unless my imagination was playing tricks on me, Holmes didn't seem his usual sharp self lately. Was there something gnawing at him, distracting him?

After a quick bite to eat, it seemed part of my question was to be answered as Holmes gingerly rubbed his temples. "What's the matter" I asked with concern. "Watson, I have a splitting headache. You don't mind if we head back to Baker Street a little early, do you?" He asked. "Of course not." I said as I picked up my coat. So we took a hansom cab back to Baker Street. Upon entering, Mrs. Hudson appeared, holding an envelope. "A young lady dropped this off only a moment ago. She said to tell you that she "would not be able to live with herself if the culprit was still at large", and apologized for not being more forthcoming earlier. My my, what's this all about?" Mrs. Hudson asked, curiosity gleaming from her eyes. I shared a look with Holmes "Oh, nothing of great importance. Thank you Mrs. Hudson" I replied enigmatically, taking the envelope before she could utter another word.

Holmes sat down at the dining table, resting his forehead on his hands. "Go ahead Watson" he said. My eyes scanned the note "it's a complete list of those who attended the dinner party" I exclaimed "Oh, this is a marvelous start." I was feeling rather optimistic at this point. Holmes, always one for cheer, replied "It may prove to be a dead end you know Watson. Don't get your hopes up just yet" he sighed heavily. "Blasted headache" he muttered miserably. "Here", I said, handing him a steaming cup of tea "go take something and lie down for heaven's sake" I decided to spend a few moments studying the list. At closer inspection of the list, I realized I knew at least half the guests. Well, by reputation at least.

Meanwhile, Holmes decided to take something for his headache – but not what I would have recommended. Not in a million years. I knew what he was doing. I could hear him rummaging through the files in the study for the solution of cocaine. I wish he'd stay clear away from that dreadful substance. If he would only realize the bad it could and would do to him.

A small sigh of relief indicated to me that I had not hid it well enough. The last I heard from Holmes for that afternoon was the muted closing of his bedroom door.

**XxxX**

Back to the studying.


	7. No avail

**Chapter 7 – No Avail**

Disclaimer – don't own anything good – but I took the liberty of inventing an island and a species of flower.

Man, how much did "Batman Begins" kick ass! "Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith" was also awesome. All these wonderful blockbusters – so little time! Oh, Harrison Ford rocks! I just re-watched the Indiana Jones movies AND the original Star Wars! – sigh

**Note**: this chapter has been recently been revised (5 years after the fact(!))

I'd just like to send a special and grateful thank you to any one who decides to read my little story – my love for all things Sherlock Holmes has only grown in the time since I first started writing this story, my only hope is that it is to your satisfaction. Thanks again ;-)

:~:~:~:

The next morning was like so many Holmes and I had shared – him rising bright eyed and bushy tailed, while I did my best to ignore him, hoping he'd notice, or care, that I thoroughly disproved of him taking _that_ substance. And as per usual – he didn't.  
"Morning Watson" he exclaimed brightly turning around the corner.  
I turned to pour some tea. "Yes" he murmured softly, noting my casual silence. "So Watson, I take it that you examined that list" he stated, rather than asked. I gave no reply. "Speaking of which - where _is_ the list?" He asked with a frown.

Probably having developed a sneaking suspicion that asking me would do no good; Holmes decided to rummage around for the list himself. Five minutes later, I was beginning to wonder how he managed to be known as such a great detective. I sighed heavily, dipping my hand under the newspaper on the table and handed it to him. He turned to me and grinned. "Why thank you Watson" he exclaimed, far more cheerily than to be expected.

That cheerful tone. It dawned on me later that morning as we headed towards the first home on our list that Holmes had been playing with me. Of course. How could the great Sherlock Holmes _not_ find a piece of paper in a small kitchen? I glared over at Holmes, who was attempting to hide the smile that had formed on his lips at my belated revelation. My glare softened to the point of laughter. There was a hint of relief in Holmes' laugh that I had rarely noticed before. _My, he was growing soft in his old age _I thought with a silent chuckle.

We arrived at the home of Simon Buchanan at approximately ten thirty. His home was grand to say the least. Although, I was sure his country house would be just as impressive. When he had married Clare Farnsworth, he had married into one of the wealthiest families in London. I should add, dear readers, he was no more suspect than anyone else on our list – if indeed _any_ of the guests were to be a suspect. He was simply at the top of our listing.

One of his servants answered the door - a middle aged man with a hint of grey creeping into his hairline. We introduced ourselves and stated the reason of our visit. The man nodded. "One moment please."  
"Certainly a handsome home" I pointed out to Holmes whilst awaiting the servants return. Holmes, however, seemed to have his mind focused elsewhere.  
"This way if you please" the man said crisply, at once reappearing at the door. Holmes and I followed him into the grand Buchanan abode.

A man, presumably Buchanan was turned away from us, reading a novel by the fireplace. The sound of our footsteps alerted him to our presence. As he turned to greet us I noted he appeared to be in his late-thirties, had dark brown hair with a finely trimmed moustache.  
"Ah" he started, striding towards us. "Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson I presume?" grasping our hands in a firm handshake. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintances gentlemen, I've read many stories of your daring exploits and crime solving expertise. What thrilling lives you both must lead" he exclaimed. Holmes smiled politely "ah I can assure you that is mainly down to Dr. Watson's literary flair. Otherwise, my calculated exercises in logic and deductive reasoning would not seem quite as exhilarating as they are made out to be."  
"Ah, modesty. Oh but where are my manners, please do sit down. Camilla, would you mind fetching these gentlemen some tea?" The maid who had been standing at the doorway curtseyed and spun on her heel in obedience.

Holmes and I sat down on the finely upholstered chairs opposite Mr Buchanan. Holmes leaned back and ran his well-studied eye over their host, then closed them for an instant. "I take it you are a well-traveled man, and have just recently returned from the Kiarmian Islands, have you not?" Holmes asked opening his eyes to catch Buchanan's look of awe. "Why yes, I returned home just last week. My wife positively begged me to arrive back in time to attend Claudette Greenwood's dinner party together. But how ever did you know? And how did you know it was the Kiarmian Islands? It is a little known area" he asked with great curiosity. "The brownness of your skin indicates you have recently visited an area where the climate is hot and the sun shines bright - obviously not in _this _country! There are a number of exotic pieces and paraphernalia on your mantelpiece." Holmes paused, taking a good sniff of the air in Buchanan's direction. "Also, I can detect the faint aroma of the rare violet Kijara, which is native to that region. I presume you brought a specimen back with you?" Buchanan nodded "My wife is quite fond of gardening."  
"Ah, but you yourself are a keen botanist" Holmes prompted with a smile "as evidenced by the slight discolouration of your fingertips from particular botanical chemicals, and the fact you are able to maintain the rare violet Kijara – a highly fragile flower indeed, requiring far more knowledge and skill to grow than that possessed by the common gardener."

Buchanan shook his head with astonishment "That is very impressive Mr. Holmes. Very impressive. Now gentlemen, as I understand it, you are here to talk about Claudette - Mrs Greenwood's recent demise. An absolutely terrible business, wasn't it? That husband of hers too, it's just too hard to believe. I only met him once, but he seemed a nice enough fellow at the time, normal and all. Who ever would have suspected?" Buchanan asked, sipping his tea.  
"You seem quite positive it was Dr. Greenwood" I pointed out "Is there no other you can think of who would wish any harm upon her?"  
Buchanan shrugged "It sounded rather conclusive in the morning's newspapers. Also, I should mention, I had heard something about a divorce – rather disadvantageous to the doctor. I don't claim to have known Claudette exceedingly well, but she was a well liked woman by all accounts. Except, I dare say, by the man who once loved her, but had been pushed to the brink - pushed to murder."

Twenty minutes later, Holmes and I left the Buchanan abode.

As we headed towards the next home on the list, Holmes had a peculiar expression on his face. "What's wrong Holmes?" I asked with concern. "Wh- ah, nothing Watson. Just pondering and postulating."

:~:~:~:

If you're reading this - thanks for still reading my story! Hope that was ok, I've added a bit more to what was originally here, and from now on I'm heading into new chapter territory – 5 years later! (geez louise huh) Please click the magical mystery review button to leave your thoughts! Thank you!


	8. Continuing enquiries

Hello dear readers – if there are any still out there! Here is the first new chapter in (ahem) 5 years. Just a short little chapter to get back into the swing of things. Hopefully it's in-keeping with the previous!

Xxx

It was late afternoon by the time Holmes and I reached the home of Thomas and Eliza Wentworth, the last couple on our list of those who had attended the late Claudette Greenwood's dinner party. We had interviewed somewhere in the region of a dozen guests, and the grand sum of what we had ascertained was that she was a well liked and admired woman, an excellent hostess, and that her marriage had been showing signs of strain. Things were not looking particularly bright for my friend John Greenwood.

From what we had learned from other guests, Eliza Wentworth was quite the socialite and had the reputation as a bit of a gossip.

Holmes and I were shown around to the rear of the property by a young servant who announced our presence to his mistress. We found Eliza Wentworth taking tea in her garden, with two small dogs circling her ankles searching the ground for treats. The brim of her large white feathered hat obscured her face from our view.

"Mr Sherlock Holmes? As in the detective?" she asked, looking up at us. She was a handsome woman in her mid-thirties with bright piercing blue eyes. Holmes nodded "and this is my friend and colleague Dr John Watson". I smiled and nodded.

Mrs Wentworth leaned forward, "oh how exciting, you must be here about poor Claudette, mustn't you? Please sit down gentlemen – would you care for some tea?" she asked.

"No thank you Mrs Wentworth, we shall endeavor to take up as little of your time as we can manage. We were hoping you may have some insight into the matter at hand - if you had noticed anything peculiar and so on."

Mrs Wentworth picked up her tea and took a sip. "Well, there was one thing…I don't know how relevant it is…" she started.  
"The smallest triviality could be of the greatest relevance" Holmes prompted.  
"Well, on the night of the dinner party I remember Claudette had abruptly excused herself halfway through our conversation - as there had been a man at the door to speak to her. I caught a glimpse of him as I was heading to the powder room - I recall having seen her speaking to him once before – during a luncheon a week or so previous. The reason I remembered him so clearly was because he was such a rough-looking creature with fiery red hair – not the sort of person a woman of Claudette's standing would usually converse with – not that I'm judging mind you." She hastily added.

"Oh no no, of course not" I replied kindly.

"Please continue Mrs Wentworth" Holmes prompted, with a hint of weariness creeping into his tone.

"He handed her a large envelope and she handed him a small envelope. I ducked out of sight when she turned around to head back into the dinning room – I didn't want her to think I was snooping or anything" Mrs Wentworth said with a small laugh.

Holmes looked thoughtful at this new information. "Just one final question Mrs Wentworth, can you think of anyone who would wish Claudette any harm?"

"Well, you didn't hear it from me, but there were whispers about that sister of hers spending a little too much time with the good Doctor, if you understand my meaning. Have you spoken to Emily?"

Not long after leaving the Wentworth's the weather took a turn for the worst. Rain started to pelt down upon us as we went in search for a cab.  
"I wonder who the man at the door could have been?" I wondered out loud as we hurried towards the nearby hansom cab we spotted at the nearby corner.

Holmes tutted as he climbed into the cab, sitting down opposite me. "Clearly he was a detective of some sort, most probably delivering evidence that Claudette intended to use for the divorce proceedings."

"Would it be worth tracking the man down?" I asked Holmes, dabbing my face with a handkerchief.

"From her keen description I can narrow the field down to two men, however I do not think this is the most important line of enquiry for the moment. I think it's about time we talked to her sister…"

xxx

Hope it was ok - just think of it as a warm up chapter from the long absence! lol Deary me, still can't believe its been 5 whole years! I still haven't finished it, but I'll try to get it done in a little less time! lol


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